Eyes that have never seen
by JPalmerGirl
Summary: Dr. Sherringford Holmes-Lestrade went blind at the age of four due to retinoblastoma. Now, he's a doctor and accepted a position in America to work for the diagnostic team of Dr. Gregory House. (Takes place in the eighth season)
1. Chapter 1

Dr. Sherringford Holmes-Lestrade slowly walked into the hospital building in front of him. His seeing-eye cane was folded up and clenched loosely under his left arm and he kept a tight hold on the harness of his service dog, Casper with his right hand. There was a reason for his tight hold on Casper, the young golden retriever was barely three months into his service. After Sherringford had graduated Med school and moved to America for a job offer, his Papa had insisted on Sherringford having a service dog, despite the fact that the twenty two year old had been blind since the day he'd turned four. It was Retinoblastoma in both eyes, they managed to save his eyes themselves...but his vision was too far gone. He was completely blind.

His parents had been overly protective of him ever since. Sherringford had decided to not fight with his Papa on the subject of a service dog, especially because he knew that his Uncle John and Uncle Sherlock, his Dad and everyone else would take his Papa's side. Even though his Uncle Sherlock usually sided on his nephew with matters like these.

Papa even managed to convince his older cousins, Hamish and Molly that it was a good idea. Damn him. Though having Casper around wasn't as bad as he had thought. The dog brought him companionship in a country he was new too. He also didn't need to use a cane when Casper was around.

Casper was also the only reason he hadn't tackled the cleaning supplies cart that someone had left in front of the automatic doors. The golden retriever had yanked him out of its path, true that it sent him stumbling backwards onto his ass, but it was the thought that counted. But surprisingly he didn't land on his ass, he stumbled into someone else. Which it how he ended up splayed on the floor, an elbow shoved into the stomach of someone else. He could taste the rusty tang of blood in his mouth along with a short burst of pain across the front of his face. Which signaled the fact that his nose was bleeding, that and the low whines coming from Casper as he nudged the young doctor with his wet nose.

"Oh God, are you alright?"

Sherringford felt himself being helped off the floor by the man he'd accidentally slammed into. When the unnamed man saw the blood seeping out of Sherringford's nose and down his face, he cursed fluently under his breath. He gently slid his hands under the young doctor's chin and lifted his face to further study the gush of blood. But Sherringford just smiled and began to dust off his clothes, gently waving off the helpful man he had accidentally gutted.

"I'm fine, no harm done. Sorry about that by the way."

Sherringford said sheepishly, running a hand through his curly ginger locks. He'd been told that his hair was a bright reddish shade, that his eyes were a hazy green color and his pale skin was covered by freckles. He honestly didn't care what he looked like however, it wasn't like he could see himself anyway.

"No, totally my fault. You should probably head over to the clinic with me, I think your nose is broken, it's over here."

The young British doctor just smiled as he heard the other doctor's footfalls, he was walking away. Sherringford just mentally shrugged, he could find his own way it really didn't matter. He groped around until he found the familiar cold exterior of his seeing eye cane and grabbed Casper's harness with the other. That was when he heard several hurried footsteps coming towards him. Then they stopped abruptly.

"Aren't you going to...oh...I didn't realize you were...you didn't tell me you were..."

"Blind? Yeah, I kind of wanted you to by me a drink first."

Sherringford joked and he could tell that the other doctor was smiling by the small chuckle the older man let out. The Brit hurriedly extended a hand and the older man clasped it happily. His hands were soft and uncalloused, rich doctor's hands like Sherringford's.

"Dr. James Wilson."

"Dr. Sherringford Holmes-Lestrade."

He knew, even without seeing him, that Wilson's brow was furrowing at Sherringford's long ass name. He honestly wondered what his fathers had been thinking, but then again he did have a father named Mycroft and an uncle named Sherlock.

"That sure is a mouth-full."

"Not the word choice I would've chosen but yep."

Sherringford just shrugged and ran a hand through his thick red curls once again. Wilson gently placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, trying to lead him and Sherringford just let him. People always did that the first time he told them, they felt the need to protect him, to guide him and if he declined their help, they would be offended. It was an annoying nonstop circle.

"Do you happen to know a doctor named Gregory House?"

He felt the older man instantly stiffen and he knew that there was something there. He'd decided to come to America from England to accept the job offer of working on Dr. Gregory House's team. His family had too much of a connection in England, he came to America to make his own image, not steal from his Uncle's or his Father's.

"Why are you looking for House?"

"I'm supposed to be a new member to his team."

He could tell that Wilson was surprised by his answer but the older doctor just shrugged and smiled at Sherringford kindly. He could tell by the way the older doctor was opening and closing his mouth nervously that he was trying to ask something that he was scared Sherringford wouldn't like.

"So how did you...um..."

"Go blind? Retinoblastoma in both eyes, they managed to save my eyes but not my vision."

The older doctor looked at the younger with the upmost concern, the younger knew it was there but he was glad that he couldn't see.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherringford winced slightly as Wilson prodded his nose, he could tell however that the older doctor was trying his best to be gentle. If he had to guess, Wilson would be a slightly more feminine man with meticulously combed dark but graying hair, his eyes were probably light colored and he was in his mid to late forties. It was a game that Sherringford liked to play with himself, he would paint a mental picture of the people that he came into contact with. It was easy to tell facts about a person by observation. People always asked him how he could observe if he was blind and he always gave them the same answer.

Seeing is not observing and observing isn't seeing. He knew colors however, only a few though, he knew reds, greens, blues. Others he had forgotten long ago. He let out a soft groan as Wilson gently taped his nose into place and gave him an ice pack to hold there.

"There you go, Holmes. Can I call you Holmes?"

Sherringford smiled and nodded at the question. Just as the door opened abruptly and slammed behind someone as they entered the examination room. The young Brit heard the familiar tapping of a cane as the footfalls neared the exam table.

"Hey, Oncology boy. We still on for lunch?"

A rough sounding voice sounded in the same direction of the limp and instead of voicing his question, he just decided to keep quiet. Just incase this duo were just like his Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John. Then he would be in for a rather interesting show.

"I'm with someone, House."

"Broken nose, isn't that obvious? Can we go eat then?"

Sherringford could tell already that the unnamed limping man was definitely like his Uncle Sherlock. The patronizing tone, the rhythmic statements, yes most definitely like his Uncle Sherlock.

"Limping is obviously not psychosomatic, not war injury either...infarction perhaps? Your an addict, addicted to Vicodin, most likely from the intense amount of pain in your bum leg. Clearly anti-social, is Wilson your only friend? Is that why you estranged him from his second wife and caused their divorce? Surprised he doesn't still blame you for that...and I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

Sherringford mused to himself, then his freckled cheeks blushed scarlet when he realized that he had just said his musings out loud. The young man bit his bottom lip nervously and Casper, always a beacon of his feelings, whined lowly.

"How did you know that?"

Wilson whispered, his tone slightly of awe, but also of recognition. So this Dr. House character must have done something of the like before.

"I specialize in observation."

"But you're blind?"

"Observing is not seeing...seeing is not observing."

_-Flashback-_

_Hamish Watson-Holmes looked at his little cousin with shaded and concerned eyes. The younger boy was obviously feverish and he'd been sick for several days. Sherringford never was the healthiest child, at least once a year he would get a fever that knocked him flat. But ever since that cancer that had taken his sight when he was four, Hamish worried about the boy. He was the youngest of the Holmes family children. Hamish was the oldest at 15, Molly the second oldest at 13 and Sherringford the youngest at 8. He was Uncle Mycroft and Uncle Greg's only child, so Hamish worried for him. _

_"Hamish?"_

_The older boy surged forwards at the child's whimpered cry and he knelt to comfort his younger cousin. He was surprised that neither Uncle Greg or Uncle Mycroft had woken up at the sound of Sherringford's voice. Hamish sighed in relief as he checked the child for a fever. His fever was breaking and it was an enormous relief. _

_"Could you read to me, Hamish?"_

_Sherringford whimpered and the older boy nodded, slipping under the covers of his little cousins bed. He'd grabbed a Braille and lettered copy of Goodnight Moon so that Sherringford could follow along with him. That was how both boys ended up curled up together, Sherringford sweaty and leaning against the strong chest of Hamish, the child's ginger locks were pasted to his forehead with sweat and his hazy eyes were still glassy from the fever that remained. But his grip was strong as he clutched at the book in Hamish's larger hands. _

_"Goodnight room, Goodnight moon."_

_Hamish began in a voice both gentle and soothing as he raked his hands through Sherringford's sweaty locks. The younger child lifted a mildly shaking hand and his finger lightly ghosted over the next words before his lips whispered clumsily. _

_"Goodnight cow jumping over the moon, Goodnight light and the red balloon."_

_Hamish smiled and began whispering the next words, he knew that Sherringford was most likely hanging on every word he was saying. _

_"Goodnight bears, Goodnight chairs."_

_"Goodnight kittens and Goodnight mittens."_

_Sherringford eagerly finished the next line, his fingers moving just as fast as Hamish's lips. His cousin even raised his hand to his lips, so Sherringford could feel Hamish smile even though he couldn't see it with eyes that wouldn't work. _

_"Goodnight clocks and Goodnight socks."_

_"Goodnight house and Goodnight little mouse."_

_Sherringford yawned after the last line so Hamish knew that the younger child was growing more and more sleepy. _

_"Goodnight comb and Goodnight brush."_

_"Goodnight to nobody and Goodnight mush."_

_"Goodnight to the old lady whispering..."_

_"Hush."_

_Sherringford had fallen totally asleep so Hamish had finished the line for him, he also took it upon himself to finish the story. _

_"Goodnight stars...Goodnight air...Goodnight noises everywhere."_

_Hamish crooned sleepily before he fell asleep himself, both cousins curled up together in the world of slumber. Gregory Lestrade stood in the door frame, arms crossed as he watched the exchange between the two boys. A small smile was plastered on his lips as he slid off his bathroom and used it to cover Hamish. He'd once thought that Hamish and Sherringford's relationship was going to be like that of Mycroft and Sherlock...and he was correct._

_-End Flashback-_


End file.
